Another Man's Bride

by Ariel MacArran

“Since the castle doesna suit ye, William,” Colyne snapped, “ye will bed down in the stable!”

  Isabella’s eyes went wide and she heard Kat’s quick indrawn breath. William was scarce out of his sickbed. Why, to send him to the stable without even a hearth!

  William straightened his back, his eyes narrowed. “I demand that you send to Perth within the hour! Inform the queen her cousin is imprisoned here and longs to join her betrothed!”

  “I am laird here!” Colyne was red to the hairline, and his hands were clenched now at his sides. “Ye dinna demand of me!”

  His shout echoed through the hall. Now even the stoutest of the clansmen looked as if they wished they had chosen somewhere else to be.

  Colyne’s expression was thunderous. In all the company, only William faced him unflinchingly.

  “Listen well, for I’ll nae it again,” Colyne gritted out with a dark look toward Angus and Malcolm. “’Tis mine own matter to see to an’ I’ll nae be questioned under me own roof! ’Twill be as I—”

  Isabella shook her head to clear it. Colyne was speaking still, but his words were dull, indistinct. The hall dimmed, the contours and the colors faded to white then to nothing …

  The floor beneath her foot split. The ladies-in-waiting surged back, screaming. Their soft bodies crushed her. She could not see Kat! The fire was behind him, blood on her own hands now.

  His russet brows were brought together in a scowl as he stood over her. He was speaking but she could not make out his words.

  His hair was a blaze of red and gold in the firelight. He brought the knife down and buried it to the hilt in her chest—

  Isabella shrieked, her arm up to protect herself. She threw herself away from the table and overturned her chair in her haste to flee.

  “Isabella!”

  She was scarce aware of him shouting after her, of the startled faces of the clansmen.

  “Poppet!”

  Instinctively Isabella turned toward Kat’s beloved voice and fell into her kinswoman’s embrace, trembling.

  “What is it?” Katherine cried. “What’s the matter, poppet?”

  Isabella shook her head, her hand pressed against her mouth.

  Kat rounded on Colyne. He was still in his place by the fire, his face white and shocked.

  “If you have by any means harmed my lady—”

  “To be sure I havena!” Colyne retorted, his face flushing.

  “It is plain she fears you as the devil himself, MacKimzie!” Katherine said sharply. “What have you done to cause her to quake so?”

  “I wouldna hurt her! She knows it so!”

  “Is she hurt?” Caitrina asked worriedly, already reaching for her crutch to stand.

  “Kat,” Isabella begged, clutching at her arms. “Please, I must go to my rooms!”

  Colyne stepped forward, reaching a hand toward her. “Isabella …”

  “Stay away!”

  Her raw cry stopped him where he was.

  “What’s the matter with her?” Colyne demanded of Kat. “Ye’ve seen her so before, I can see it in yer face. Tell me, woman!”

  “My lady is overwrought,” Kat lied smoothly, tightening her arms around Isabella. “Exhausted with worry and fear and longing for her freedom. She must rest and quiet herself or she will make herself ill.”

  Colyne’s brow furrowed. His gaze searched Isabella’s face. He nodded. “All right, then, mistress. Caitrina, go on ahead to the solar. Here, I will carry—”

  “No! We will accompany her to her rooms. And if you have any decency in you, my lord,” Katherine said sharply to him, turning her body slightly to shield Isabella, “you will leave my lady in peace. It is plain that you are to blame for her distress!”

  Colyne’s face went ashen. He looked at her for a moment then took an unsteady step back.

  Oh, that he should see her like this!

  Isabella watched him go. How could she possibly explain? Women were burned for less, and she shuddered at the memory of Jehanne twisting in the flames.

  Resting in the big curtained bed, Isabella still felt shaken, like a woman who had been plucked from a river just before drowning. She covered her eyes, recalling her awful display in the great hall.

  Her visions were never like this before, so vivid and so horrifying.

  If he should ever know…

  Her beloved friend was only now on the mend. Kat rallied instantly in the great hall, fearlessly taking on any who would dare hurt her poppet. She was ferociously protective, always had been. Isabella could not confide the MacKimzie seduced her. What would Kat do?

  She cringed. Isabella knew what she might do—find a riding crop and whip Colyne through the courtyard, denouncing him with her own brand of polyglot obscenities.

  Or go to Sir William and insist on satisfaction.

  Or go to the king and demand revenge.

  Isabella wagered Kat wielding the riding crop the most likely of the lot.

  No, she could not tell Kat what had happened.

  Not until they were away from here.

  Colyne was laird here and he made it plain he would not have his authority challenged. Would he punish Katherine if she took him to task? The three were prisoners here.

  He could chain them to the wall, if he chose. He could separate them at his whim. Cells awaited them below in the lowest level of the castle.

  Isabella heard a knock at the door and tensed. The curtains were drawn around her bed; she need only stay still, feign sleep, and Kat would send the intruder away.

  Her heart pounded. If it were Colyne, would he go if Katherine bid him to?

  Isabella kept very still, trying to control her breathing. She heard Kat unlatch the door and open it.

  “How does she?”

  A sweet woman’s voice, softened by a Highlander burr.

  Caitrina.

  “She is quiet now.”

  “Does she have need of me?”

  “I think not,” Katherine said instantly, but then her voice softened. “I will send for you if she does. What she needs most is sleep, poor lamb.”

  There was a pause. “The lass complained of a headache earlier. If it comes again, send to me and I will bring her more willow bark tea.”

  A rustle of fabric.

  “I shall. Please now, let her rest.”

  “Ye should rest yerself, mistress.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

  Isabella could imagine Caitrina lingering there, desperate to help anyone in pain. After another moment she heard the Scotswoman’s crutch and retreating step. The door closed again and the latch secured.

  Isabella let her body relax.

  “You can stop pretending, poppet. I know you are not sleeping.”

  Katherine peeked through the curtains.

  Isabella sighed. “I cannot sleep, Kat. I fear the vision in my sleep again.”

  Kat pushed the curtain back. “Again?”

  “It comes to me as a nightmare.”

  “And again in the great hall. ’Tis a man you see in these visions you say. Is it the MacKimzie?”

  “I do not know.” Isabella passed her hand over her eyes. “I pray not.”

  “But the sending in the great hall, it was different?”

  “Yes, more vivid, more clear. I saw you and the queen trying to bar the door. I saw blood on my own hands, felt the pain. Oh, Kat, I am so frightened!”

  The bed dipped as Katherine sat beside her.

  “I know, poppet, but I shall be there and we will manage. I cannot believe you would see this thing if we are to die.”

  Isabella took Katherine’s hand. “You were ever braver than I.”

  Kat’s brow furrowed. “Did you know the MacKimzie had not sent for the ransom?”

  Isabella shook her head. “He said he had already made his demands. I do not know the truth of it, though. But why delay?”

  “Perhaps he fears the king’s retaliation.”

  “If he so feared King James he would not have take
n me at all.”

  “But Sir William was a sight to see!” Katherine exclaimed suddenly, her face glowing. “I did not know the man possessed such courage!”

  Isabella giggled lightly. “Like a rabbit facing down a lion.”

  Katherine pulled her hand away, offended.

  “No such thing!” Kat’s cheeks flushed. “The man is a true knight!”

  Isabella tilted her head, narrowed her eyes, and smirked playfully. “Do you fancy him?”

  “Do not talk foolishness!” Katherine retorted, busying herself with straightening the bedclothes. “A lady may admire a brave man without going all goose-headed about him.”

  Isabella absorbed this silently. She had never seen Katherine “goose-headed” about anything and it was a bit of a shock.

  “Kat, do you think the MacKimzie suspects?” Isabella groaned. “Oh, what they must think of me!”

  Katherine shook her head. “You worry overmuch. I cannot believe they suspect any more than you are tired and overwrought. Even the MacKimzie did not mutter of heresy or witchcraft, poppet. He would have carried you here in his arms if I had a mind to let him!”

  “But how I acted! I could not bear for anyone to see me like that again. I shall stay in this room, in this bed, until my cousin sends my escort and the MacKimzie his money.”

  “You most certainly shall not!”

  Isabella hardened her jaw. “I do not wish to see anyone.”

  “You need not speak to any of them, if you so choose, poppet,” Katherine said. “But you will take the air twice a day for the sake of your health and spirits. If you are not going to sleep now, we will walk outside a bit. It will be good for both of us.”

  “I do not wish to,” Isabella replied, pulling the blankets up. “And you will not make me.”

  Katherine lifted an eyebrow at her and Isabella’s stomach sank.

  “I would you make a greater effort to make merry with us,” Kat chided her a fortnight later as they bundled up for another walk. “Your phlegmatic humor gives me indigestion! If only we were at Bella Court, and you could be bled properly by a physician to restore you!”

  “You make merry enough for both of us,” Isabella said. “And I have no heart for mirth.”

  “Pshaw! What a bitter draft you are these days!” Kat exclaimed, making a face and pulling up Isabella’s hood. “Douglas was promised a pretty songbird and I shall present him a crow!”

  At least twice a day—once after they broke their fast and once after dinner—Katherine bundled her up. Kat, determined to speed her own recovery and strengthen Isabella’s constitution, led her through the castle, round and round the courtyard until their cheeks were reddened by cold and their fingers numb.

  Still forbidden to cross the bridge or to ride out over the land, Isabella soon found herself almost wild with frustration. She longed for escape, to be somewhere, anywhere, but here. She had often kept caged birds when she was in England but after this never would again.

  Katherine also insisted they show their faces at every meal. Kat and William’s new—and obvious—attraction left Isabella feeling very awkward. They chatted, teased, and flirted as if she were not even there.

  Colyne made no attempt to speak to her. He did not so much as glance her way even when they were seated at the same table at dinner. Isabella could have been a cast-off boot for all the attention he paid her.

  Alisoun regarded her with a knowing, mocking smirk that left her fairly undone after every encounter. The woman was insolently slow and careless in serving Isabella. She sauntered about with smug confidence knowing that Isabella would not dare call her out or complain.

  But it slowly dawned on Isabella as the days passed that, for whatever vile reasons, both Colyne and Alisoun seemed to be keeping her secret to themselves.

  Malcolm certainly was not one to bite back a lewd jest if he could make one. Yet, when they met in the outer hall—Isabella going to the solar, Malcolm to the courtyard—he merely asked kindly after her health. By neither look nor word did Malcolm indicate he thought her any other than a virtuous lady and a guest.

  Why did Colyne seduce her, she wondered, if not to use it against her in some way? Why did he keep his silence? The worrying, the wondering, kept her awake long into the night as Kat snored beside her.

  Had he not wanted me at all? she thought bleakly. Could he play so false that he trembled under my touch?

  Had he only wanted to use her?

  Had he hoped to win her to his cause against the king, and having failed in that mission, simply felt it was not worth his time to destroy her good name?

  Did he, after all, fear that by bedding her he had gone too far? King James was not a man to forget an injury or hesitate to extract revenge.

  If the MacKimzie demanded a hefty ransom of her betrothed for her safe return, it would simply not be in his own best interest to cheapen her in any way. Colyne and Alisoun might see the advantage to holding their tongues.

  Certainly she would never speak of it. Might she yet escape this unscathed?

  She kept anxious measure of the days. She suffered the nightmares still but during the day her visions bespoke of trivial things—a lost stocking, Morag catching cold, Mary’s infatuation with the stable boy Dougal—but nothing of a child. Her courses had come shortly after her arrival at the castle. She would have weeks yet before she knew for certain and her days did not pass easily.

  She dined in the great hall with its worn tables and smoky smell. She sat beside Kat as she flirted with Sir William, always acutely aware of the Highlander to whom she meant nothing.

  She walked with Katherine now through the castle gardens, snow-covered and fallow, through the gray stone–covered galleries, past the kitchen with its wonderful warm scents where she and Colyne had eaten honey cake.

  “I do not know why you insist I dine in the hall and not in my rooms as I wish,” Isabella complained. “None of the Scots speak to me now and you and William speak to none but each other.”

  “None speak to you because your temper is as sour as unripe grapes,” Katherine snapped. “The MacKimzie assured Sir William he has sent to the queen and only awaits Her Majesty’s answer. The ransom will soon be here and we will away to court, as it should be. Let us make the most of it, poppet, and keep our hearts light in anticipation of your coming marriage.”

  Isabella gritted her teeth and hurried into the courtyard. She stopped short when she saw Colyne, mounted and ready to ride, her stomach knotting. Riding out to see her again.

  Once Caitrina again took her place as lady of the house it was not long before Alisoun started spending most of her time away from the castle. Colyne’s sister was none too fond of his mistress. Malcolm made many a bawdy comment on how the laird spent his nights outside the castle walls.

  Isabella sometimes encountered Colyne riding back early in the morning. His visits to Alisoun’s cottage did not improve his humor any. He stalked the halls of the castle in a black mood, so biting of tone and scowling that even Caitrina, to whom he had ever been gentle, complained of his bad temper.

  Then Isabella noticed the other men ready to ride as well. So focused was she on Colyne she had not even seen Caitrina leaning there in the archway.

  “What is this?” Isabella asked her. “Do they ride out to hunt?”

  “I wish ’twere so! Another raid against the MacLaulachs,” Caitrina said, disapproval plain in her tone.

  “Have they raided against you?” Isabella asked.

  “Nae, but Colyne wants to push them back farther from our lands. An o’course the lads are all eager for a bit o’ danger. They wouldna be sae eager for it if it was them who set the bones and wrapped the wounds.”

  She could not help but look at him. Grim, Colyne sat tall in the saddle, the reds, blacks, and greens of his plaid mantle bright under the winter sun, his hair copper bright.

  He looked in their direction at that moment. Isabella quickly turned away, fearful he might read the longing in her face, even at
this distance. Caitrina waved to them; the horses’ hooves pounded on the bridge as they rode across.

  “Nae good’ll come of it in the end,” Caitrina said grimly. “I only hope the lads come back safe and with none of the MacLaulachs hurt either.”

  Why could she not, after all he had done, break this hold he had over her?

  She started when Caitrina touched her shoulder. “Does yer head pain ye again, lady?”

  “Yes,” Isabella answered shortly. “The air here seems to bring them on with annoying regularity. I can but pray we are to go on to Perth soon. The headaches are becoming well nigh intolerable.”

  “On that matter,” Katherine put in smoothly, “is there any word on when we might expect to join the court?”

  Caitrina averted her eyes. “I canna say. Colyne does nae confide in me these days.”

  At odds over Alisoun, no doubt.

  “Please appeal to your brother on my behalf,” Isabella said coldly. “My imprisonment here grows tiresome and my spirits ever more downcast.”

  Caitrina nodded, her brow furrowed. “I shall ask if ye may be allowed the liberty of a short ride outside the walls, for yer health’s sake and to relieve ye of the monotony.”

  Kat brightened. “Perhaps to the well. I should so like to see one again. Oh, think of how the change of scene would raise our spirits, poppet!”

  Isabella flinched inwardly. She could not think of any spot outside the castle less likely to raise her spirits than that place where she had clung to Colyne, seeking his kiss just before he pushed her away from him in favor of Alisoun.

  Without waiting to see if Katherine followed, Isabella started around the courtyard. To her irritation Katherine began a lively conversation with Caitrina, following behind her so that she was party to every cheerful word. Kat urged Caitrina to tell them about the well and the countryside in general.

  As they chatted behind her, Isabella felt the headache she had feigned earlier materialize into a band squeezing her skull. She picked up her pace, leaving the other ladies behind.

  She could not leave this accursed place and join the court quickly enough!

  Shouts from the courtyard below woke her.

  Isabella threw aside the bed curtains and was out of bed in a moment, pressing her face against the glass to see. It was hours still till dawn and the cold pane against her cheek made her flinch. From her vantage point she could make out horses and people with torches moving in the courtyard but little else. Raised voices and the cry of a man in pain reached her from below.